


An Estuary

by Cym0rg



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Set during the timeskip, Sexism, Unresolved Sexual Tension, it's my fic I get to make the victor brother
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-01-30 02:57:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21421060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cym0rg/pseuds/Cym0rg
Summary: "Don't worry," Leonie came to stand at his side. "Mercenaries and merchants need each other, like how rivers always end up back at the sea. I'll see you again, someday.""Is that a promise?" He asked. Something shamelessly challenging lingered behind his eyes."... Yeah."-During the height of the cold war in the Alliance, Ignatz reads a familiar name on his family’s roster of employees.
Relationships: Leonie Pinelli & Ignatz Victor, Leonie Pinelli/Ignatz Victor
Comments: 21
Kudos: 65
Collections: Ignatz Week 2019





	1. Upstream

**Imperial Year 1183, 13th of Wyvern Moon**  
**Derdriu**

"General Goneril has requested a shipment." Pierre announced from his seat across the desk. The finality in his tone told Ignatz that they were going to oblige, and had likely already sent a confirmation. "And I will be needed here."

"Under normal circumstances," he continued, "I wouldn't ask it of you, but the situation is dire. Can I trust you to make the delivery?"

"Of course." Ignatz replied. Having sensed the hint of thorns in his brother's voice, he added, "I imagine my training as a knight will prove useful."

Pierre's upper lip twitched before he set the ledger in his hands down on the mahogany desk. With a flick of his wrist, it glided across the surface. Ignatz stopped it with his hand and tentatively opened the first page. 

"So it would seem." His brother said with unguarded contempt, but Ignatz found it easier to disregard him as he examined the contents of the document. 

A long list of supplies, in his brother's meticulous handwriting, laid bare for him. The ledger called for medicine, artillery, grain, and other essential resources for a city carefully balancing on the brink of war.

"You'll be heading through Gloucester territory." Pierre stated flatly as Ignatz turned the page, anticipating the map of routes that lay on the other side. 

Ignatz frowned and adjusted his glasses. He glanced up, his gaze uncharacteristically condemning.

"That's a good way to ensure House Goneril never receives it's shipment," He challenged calmly. 

They weren't at war - _openly._ But Count Gloucester had made no secret of his imperial sympathies, and he met the every move of House Riegan so strongly and so immediately that his intentions were impossible to dismiss. Ignatz recalled rumors that a conflict from Lord Acheron kept him too preoccupied to act further, but distraction didn't nullify his influence. He didn't need the entirety of his forces to cut off a caravan. He never had before.

Ignatz heard Raphael's jovial, bellowing laugh echo in the back of his mind. And he frowned. 

"If you attempt to take the path through Edmund territory and south, you'll arrive in two months - generously. And that's assuming those Almyran savages don't cause you any trouble." Pierre said, his voice laden with disdain as he mentioned the eastern nation. Ignatz cut his eyes up in warning, to no response. 

"The Almyrans won't be looking for us," he countered. "Gloucester _will._"

"I'm well aware. Fortunately, you are a knight, aren't you?" His brother commented, the glaze in his tone heavy with false admiration.

"I was trained by knights," Ignatz corrected, unable to keep the snap of irritation from his voice. "And I would defend the shipment if I needed to. But I think you're underestimating Count Gloucester if you think I can manage it alone."

"You won't be alone." Pierre said. Ignatz looked at him, puzzled, and then turned the page of the ledger. 

A long list of words, scrawled in red ink, trailed across the entire paper. He skimmed them. They were names.

"Mercenaries." His brother's voice caused him to look up once more. "As many as I could collect from beneath tavern tables." And then he smiled, as though that were a particularly clever thing to say. 

Ignatz' gaze returned to the paper. The remains of their family's once formidable private military were accompanying their parents, already deep within the heart of Riegan's territory. 

The idea that he wasn't going to make the journey alone was comforting. However, Ignatz couldn't shake the suspicion that Pierre had chosen mercenaries for their, in his own words, 'expendable' nature. He anticipated a fight, and had taken precautions to ensure that nothing of value would be lost. 

It was hard for Ignatz to share that opinion as he slowly read down the list of names, and the meager amounts of intended pay written beside each other. Some were as low as 40 gold pieces, and he pitied whoever was in such desperate need that they would attach so meager a price to their own life.

As he continued, a familiar name caught his eye. He nearly jumped back in his chair, but instead he inhaled sharply and felt his pulse quicken. 

_Leonie Pinelli. _

There it was, written plainly with little of the same reverence Ignatz carried for the name. He thought of the last time he saw her, with Garreg Mach a smouldering crown on the distant mountains. They were covered in ash and blood, not all their own, supporting a limping Marianne between them. Far beyond the reach of the Imperial army, all from the Alliance who survived the attack sought refuge in a nearby town, helpless to act as the heart of Fódlan burned in the night. Without their professor among the survivors, Claude for once had no words to offer his peers. Leonie trembled, and whether from rage or fear, he would never know. Yet she used her shaking hands to comfort him anyway. 

The next morning, the crowd of survivors began to disperse. Little was said, even among his former house. But what was there to say? It was the end. Immediate, brutal, and brought on wings of crimson. As he prepared to board his father's carriage, he noticed that Leonie lingering near the inn. She said she would be heading home soon, but the honey in her voice told him she was lying. 

He furrowed his brows. This was a rare instance where he hadn't wanted to be right. But the proof was there. Wherever she had gone, he was sure it wasn’t home.

But no matter what she had chosen to do these past years, she was going to be accompanying him on this venture. A confusing, intoxicating rush of emotions began to bombard him. Elation. Apprehension. Nervousness. Excitement. 

"What are you so interested in?" Pierre's voice snapped him back to the present. He supposed he had never been good at keeping his emotions off of his face. 

"Leonie," Ignatz breathed. "It says you hired someone named Leonie Pinelli. Is that true?"

The familiarity in the way his brother spoke the stranger’s name caused Pierre to arc a brow.

"Yes… I recall her. A ginger woman, dressed in dark umber. Fetching, I suppose, as mercenaries go. What's your business?"

"She was a…" Ignatz hesitated, taming his excitement for the sake of not rousing Pierre’s suspicion. "... classmate of mine. At the Officer's Academy. I haven't seen her in many years. It's good to know the war hasn't claimed her."

Pierre frowned, but seemed relatively satisfied with the explanation.

"I see." He said curtly. After a moment, he added, "and I should hope that she remains unclaimed."

"Yes." Ignatz agreed absently. The warning embedded in his brother's words hadn't gone unnoticed. But in truth, he couldn't care to heed it. 

-

The sun had come and gone once since he’d seen the ledger for the first time. Ignatz sat in the office he occupied for the time being - he was unsure whether or not this venture into merchantry would prove lasting, but the destruction of Garreg Mach had put an unceremonious end to his journey toward knighthood. Yet, this hardly posed the opportunity he would have hoped. Even if he did have the courage to confront his father about his desire to paint, what good would paintings do in times as dire as these? Some comfort they would bring to the injured and dying, he thought morbidly.

When he returned home, there had been little debate as to what he would do. Though his elder brother may have been the one inheriting the company, it didn’t bar him from becoming an asset to it nonetheless. He’d begun to learn the trade, though it had never been far from reach, he’d absorbed enough knowledge to be a competent trader just by listening and watching. It was work, slow and plodding, drained of any ardor. A lifeless job, to be certain, but at least he wouldn’t be racked by guilt each time he picked up a quill. 

He found he often spent his free hours reminiscing about his days at the academy, looking out the window that overlooked Derdriu - the city that kissed the sea. Once, he had dreaded each step he took towards Garreg Mach and longed only to return to his comfortable home. But now that he was here, the walls felt remarkably hollow, the spoils of wealth ornamental and vain. Had they always been this way?

He idly ran his fingers over the soft edges of his favorite quill, contemplating what to make of his situation. 

The large, gilded doors opened behind him, and Ignatz tore his gaze away from the distant view of the harbor and sails. 

“You requested me, sir?” One of his family’s hired assistants stood in front of him, his face stoic with professionalism.

“Yes, your punctuality is appreciated as always.” Ignatz regarded him with a polite smile. He grabbed the ledger his brother had given him and flipped to the roster of mercenaries.

“Of course,” the assistant said. “May I ask what for?”

“Could you bring me a…” Ignatz pretended to be unfamiliar with the name, glancing at the ledger as though to check it. But it was purely theatrical. He could never forget. “...Miss Leonie Pinelli? There are two salaries written here, and I need to know which she was promised.”

The assistant nodded plainly before turning and exiting the room.

Ignatz released a long breath after the doors closed once again, leaving him alone with his thoughts. And what thoughts they were, the mere idea of seeing one of his classmates again left his mind racing. The promise of familiarity, of recapturing what it was like to lounge on a Sunday afternoon in Lone Moon, surrounded by the lively conversation of his friends, it tantalized him. More pressingly, the last time he’d seen Leonie left him with more questions than answers. What had she been doing all this time? Where had she really gone after that night at the inn? She was finally a mercenary, it seemed. What was it like for her to live her dream?

Blunt drumming at the door pulled him from his thoughts. So, it was finally time.

“Come in.” He said, but not before lowering his voice a few octaves.

The door creaked open, and lit by the glow of the outer hallway - there she stood.

She was dressed more heavily than she had been at the monastery. The shine of metal caught his attention, coming from her armored shoulder pads. She hardly hesitated entering the room, and as she walked he heard the faint clink of metal meeting metal and the brush of cloth against itself. A strap crossed her generous chest, (Ignatz chastised himself for taking note,) and a skirt cape flowed behind her.

Her stride was brazen with the weight of her power, imbued with the confidence of a seasoned warrior - a far cry from the excitable young apprentice he remembered her as. Her copper hair had grown out considerably, now resting at her neck in something that resembled a messy bob. Yet despite the changes to her appearance, Ignatz could still recognize the same patterning of freckles across her olive skin, the same wildfire eyes. They were set directly ahead, trained on him at his desk. Ignatz thought he felt quite like a prey animal in that moment.

She stopped just in front of the desk. A slow look of recognition settled over her features as she looked him over. 

“Ignatz?” She asked, and the mere sound of her voice sent a shiver down his spine. To imagine it was one thing, to hear it was another.

“Leonie,” He replied, too dazed to say much else.

“I can’t believe it’s really you!” She exclaimed, her all-too familiar laugh resonating warmly through him. “Goddess, look at all this! You never told me you lived the high life.”

She placed her hands on his desk comfortably. After a moment, a small glass paperweight of a swan caught her eye. She plucked it away and began examining it from different angles.

“I suppose we do have our fair share of luxuries,” Ignatz admitted, gently taking it from her and returning it to its proper spot. “But we’re nowhere near as wealthy as some nobles.”

“Like _that_ matters,” Leonie gave him a bemused grin. “I’m from Sauin, remember? It’s all incredible to me.”

A familiar ache seized his chest at the sight of her lips pulled back, her eyes warm like a hearthfire. From this close he could see the freckles dotting her cheeks and nose, those small dark specks on her sun-darkened skin. The lantern on his desk bathed her in an orange glow. Her expression gradually grew concerned as she tilted her head.

“Ignatz?” She asked. “Is something wrong?”

“Your hair is longer.” He blurted, stating the first thing he could observe. “I… It’s different.”

Leonie blinked and glanced to the straight auburn hair, draped against her neck. He thought he saw a hint of discomfort pass over her face, but it vanished in an instant.

“Oh, yeah.” She reached up to idly run her fingers through it. “I thought it might be nice to… see what it would look like long. It’s been short for most of my life.” 

“It looks lovely.” He replied. He was sincere about that, perhaps too sincere, because he realized only after speaking just how smooth and gentle his tone was. Leonie’s eyes widened and she chuckled. 

“Lovely, huh? That’s a new one. Your hair looks pretty good, too.”

“Hm? Oh, right.” Ignatz had nearly forgotten. “I’m glad you think so. My brother used to say my old haircut made me look too much like a child, and I grew tired of hearing him complain.”

“Well, that’s a bit harsh. I always thought it was cute,” Leonie said, frowning abruptly. “I hope you didn’t change it just because he wanted you to.”

“Oh, no, nothing like that,” he said, and there was some truth to it. “I much prefer this style, if I’m honest.” He raised a hand and lightly touched the back of his neck, which was trimmed of the thick curls that had once grown there.

“Good.” She stated decisively. “Though, I have to say, I’m pretty impressed with the getup, too.” 

Leonie gestured broadly to his attire, and he realized it was sure to be a far cry from her memory of him. He had grown taller, though not by much, his shouldered had broadened, and he noticed that his glasses no longer slid down his nose. His clothes were much brighter and less standard than the simple black and white uniforms of the academy. 

“You look like a real merchant now.” She added after a moment. 

“And you look like a real mercenary.” He returned.

“I _am_ a real mercenary,” Leonie corrected proudly. “But I bet you were pretty surprised to see my name on your roster, huh?”

“Not at all.” Ignatz assured her. “I always knew you could make it. I just never imagined you’d work for _me._”

“A job’s a job,” she shrugged, “though if you ask me, it’s not a bad deal at all - working for one of your friends. At least I know you won’t screw me out of my pay.”

“Has that happened before?” He asked, brows furrowing.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Leonie admitted with a heave of her chest. “I’d be lying if I said being a mercenary was as easy as I imagined it would be. But nothing worthwhile ever is, huh?” 

Before he could answer, she leaned forward, eyes gleaming with excitement. 

“Except working with you, of course. Even if I lose my legs, I know it’ll still be the best job of my career!”

“L-Leonie! Please don’t say things like that!” Ignatz cried. “That would be terrible!”

Instead of rescinding her comment, Leonie tilted her head back and gave another of her short, barking laughs. 

“You really haven’t changed a bit, have you?” She said once she recovered. “You might have nice new digs, but you’re still… you.”

“I’m not entirely sure if that’s a compliment or not,” Ignatz murmured with a lowered brow. 

“The highest,” Leonie said without hesitation. “I missed you so much.” 

The softening of her gaze told him that she meant it. And for a moment, Ignatz felt his world slow. The idea that he had not been the only one longing for a reunion between the two of them, and for a few fleeting seconds, he wondered if he had filled her thoughts as often as she had his. 

Leonie continued speaking, breaking eye contact as she chuckled awkwardly. Perhaps she felt she owed him an elaboration.

“Look, I’m not great at this sappy stuff, but I think that being a mercenary, a real one, has made me appreciate the incredible people I got to meet at the academy. People like you. So, I’m really happy to see you again.”

“Me?” Ignatz echoed incredulously. 

“Of course you, silly.” Leonie laughed, though this time it was laced with gentleness. “I’ve never met another person in all my life like you. You were always so thoughtful, so kind… Considerate, a little awkward, sure, but… y’know, charming about it.”

Ignatz felt his face heat up, both from the praise from Leonie and the memory of how timid he used to be. His fears hadn’t ebbed entirely, but Ignatz found that these days he didn’t hesitate nearly as often when matters had to be handled. The strain of his duty to his family had chased it out of him far more effectively than he realized.

“Once you start working with other mercenaries, well…” She trailed off, a frown tugging at her lips. “It just changes things.”

He knew Leonie well enough that she wasn’t likely to express her troubles with direct probing. Instead, Ignatz extended his hand, placing it over hers on the desk.

“Then I suppose it’s rather lucky that we’ll be working together.”

Leonie’s vibrant orange eyes caught the gesture, and then raised to meet his. She grinned, mouth drawn back in a sincere smile that affected the whole of her face. Ignatz noticed that her lips were a beautiful shade of carnation. He didn’t recall them being so lovely.

“S’pose so, _boss._” She crooned, unable to keep the playful affection from her voice.

“Please,” Ignatz laughed, withdrawing his hand. “Don’t call me that.”

“You prefer _employer?_” She teased, straightening up to look taller.

“Who calls their employer _‘employer’_?” He returned, grinning despite himself.

“_Mister Victor?_”

“Please, Mister Victor is my father,” Ignatz said, and the laugh that earned from Leonie was matched by his own. 

“Fine, fine. You win.” She said, waving a gloved hand dismissively as she fought back her smile. “I’ll stick with Ignatz. But be prepared to deal with a lot of rumors - when the boys find out we’re on a first-name basis, they’ll talk.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, y’know. They’ll think we’re sharing sheets, that I’ve gotten acquainted with your broadsword, in a word.” Leonie cleared her throat.

Recognition struck him and he felt his face heat once again.

“I see.” 

“Yeah. But, hey, I can handle anything those meatheads throw at me. Isn’t just your body that has to be strong in this business.” Leonie rapped the side of her skull with her knuckles, as though to emphasize her point. “I couldn’t care less, but I imagine you probably have a professional reputation to uphold.”

Ignatz contemplated her words for a moment, mulling them over before coming up with his response. 

"I'm not inheriting the company, you know. I'm sure it wouldn't truly harm anything. My reputation means very little, as the second son."

Leonie raised a brow, but her grin persisted.

"Is that your way of saying you wouldn't mind?"

"Not in the slightest."

".... Huh," She said, as though searching for a way to fill the air. Though he thought he saw her cheeks darken with a tinge of blush. "Well, hey, if that's how you feel, I won't try to stop you."

A few moments of silence passed as they studied other things in the room. 

"So what did you really call me here for?" Leonie finally broke the silence. 

"I wanted to see you." Ignatz replied simply. "It's been a long three years without you, Leonie."


	2. Surge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the convoy leaves the safety Derdriu, Leonie claws for respect in a world that is determined to afford her none.

Dawn broke.

Leonie had been anticipating it - she, along with the other mercenaries, spent the better part of the dark morning hauling crates onto wagons. It was a familiar routine to her. This wasn’t the first escort job she had taken, and she doubted it would be her last. They had finished loading the last wagon and securing the shipment with a thick tarp just as the sun began to creep over the horizon. She sat on the back of that last wagon, securing a thick tie with calloused fingers. The faint, violet light of morning washed over her as she flashed a thumbs up to her supervisor - none other than Ignatz himself. He gave her an affirming smile in exchange, quill moving to mark something off on the ledger. 

Leonie leapt down from the wagon with one swift, practiced motion. Around her, she could see her fellow mercenaries preparing for the journey. Those with horses were saddling up and mounting, some checked their equipment’s durability, others packed their satchels full of rations.

Ignatz had been busy overseeing the endeavor, but he hadn’t been alone long enough for them to exchange many words. Another man with clothing branded by the same golden ouroboros often appeared to speak with him. Leonie was never quite close enough to hear, but their expressions were always solemn. 

She recognized him from the tavern she had been burrowing in, brandishing contracts which most of her drunken peers clambered for. Leonie had lingered back and only remembered thinking that he looked remarkably like Ignatz. His hair was sage green, and a monocle shielded his left eye. But behind the glass there was nothing - just the hollow, unknowing eyes of a stranger.

She’d needed work at the time. He’d introduced himself as a Victor. The liquor was heavy in her stomach, and the ache of hope in her chest as she took his quill between her fingers. 

And now here she was, watching the elder Victor exchange a few final words with Ignatz before turning in a flurry of fine cloth and retreating to the estate. Ignatz hardly took time to watch him leave before mounting his armored horse and guiding it towards Leonie.

“He seems like he’d be fun at parties,” Leonie quipped as he drew near.

“He’s my brother, Leonie,” Ignatz chastised, but there was a hint of concession in his voice.

“I know, sorry. I don’t mean to offend. He just seemed…”  _ Cold _ , she wanted to say. “... Very professional.”

“He is,” Ignatz replied, drawing his horse’s reins up. “He’s the future heir to the company. He has responsibilities neither of us could dream of.”

"You're right. We have better things to dream about, don't we?” Leonie said, and watched the corners of his lips tick up in mirth before heading toward her own steed. 

It was an off-white pegasus mare, with a broad wingspan and sturdy build. Its wings were tucked gracefully at its side as it waited for the return of its rider. Marianne had once described it as a swan - beautiful, but just as temperamental. But the trait she found she admired the most was it's hound-like loyalty. Leonie gave the mare a comforting pat on the neck before gripping the saddle and swinging herself into the seat. Ignatz waited patiently as she trotted back to him, and together they rode to the head of the convoy.

Leonie did her best to ignore the lingering gazes of the other mercenaries, all too aware that she was riding alongside their employer. Several of them were curious about why she’d been called to his office the previous day, and Leonie didn’t have a lie prepared for them. The insinuations were immediately upon her, some hidden in jokes, others more pointed. Leonie could feel them staring down her back, a low murmur rising among the men they passed.

“Did you sleep well?” Ignatz asked suddenly, numbing her to the sensation.

“As well as I could, knowing we were setting out today,” Leonie admitted, grateful for the distraction.

He smiled at her.

“My night was much the same. This journey is going to be difficult, but I’m glad you’re here to share it with me.”

They reached the head of the convoy by the time he finished speaking, and Ignatz turned to look back on the men and wagons behind them. The true scale of their mission struck Leonie then. The men and wagons had morphed into dark masses, illuminated by flickering torches which now seemed only like stray embers. 

And so they departed, heading through the decorated and well-tended streets of Derdriu, over the city's many canals and waterways, until they passed beneath the bridge leading out of the city. Leonie glanced back only once as they crested a hill on the outside of town, watching the distant sails disappear into the harbor’s morning fog.

By then, the dawn had erupted into gold, and as she rode side by side with Ignatz, Leonie couldn’t help but notice the way the light illuminated him. He’d grown so much since they had been at the officer’s academy. She’d noticed it when they first reunited, the way he carried himself and dressed. He was a man now - that much was certain. But it had never been more remarkable than it was in that moment. His face had grown stronger, shed the roundness of his youth. His jaw had a new strong yet delicate angle to it. Even his eyes, once wide with nervous observation, seemed more warm and calm. 

He was so familiar, yet there was a new curiosity stoked by his appearance. Leonie realized that she had no name for it.

Ignatz reached up to remove his glasses for a moment, rubbing them on the cloth of his long cape to clean them. It was then that he glanced over at her. For a moment, Leonie nearly felt shameful for having stared for so long. 

“I, uh,” she began.

“No, it’s okay,” Ignatz said with a smile. “You’re probably not used to seeing me without my glasses. Is it strange?”

“Not at all!” She exclaimed. “It’s nice.”

“In that case, should I keep them off for the whole trip?” He laughed, a hint of playfulness in his tone.

“You can’t,” Leonie said. “You’re the one leading us there. You need them.”

“A sound argument. I suppose you’re right.” Ignatz chuckled to himself. 

“Besides,” Leonie added after a moment, unsure why her heartbeat had begun to quicken. “You look good either way.”

A bout of silence passed between them, punctured only by the click of hooves. Leonie realized with great agony how forward that must’ve sounded. She was prepared to mentally berate herself for once again losing control of her tongue, but the widening of Ignatz’ eyes and the slow spread of a smile across his mouth caused her to stop.

“Thank you, Leonie.”

It was so sincere. Would she have been willing to accept the words, if he’d been the one to give them to her? She thought back to what he said about her hair.  _ Lovely _ . It had been echoing in the back of her mind the entire night she lay awake in her bed at the tavern. 

“It’s nothing,” Leonie lied with a roll of her shoulders. 

A few more moments of silence passed between them, and Leonie glanced at Ignatz’ hand. They still gripped his spectacles by the arm, relaxed at his side.

“You were just kidding about not putting your glasses back on, right?” She teased, eager to have a shield of levity between them once more. 

“Oh! Yes, that’s right,” Ignatz glanced down, realizing that he still had yet to return them to his face. He quickly amended that fact, and turned back to her with his lenses back in their proper place. Leonie couldn’t suppress a laugh - it was comforting to see that despite his new position, he was still the same charming boy she remembered.

-

The rest of their day was filled with the journey south. They stopped to eat feed their horses, and paved roads leading to Derdriu gradually fell away to the worn dirt roads of the country. The air was fresh, something Leonie found she missed from within the walls of the capital. 

The sun had begun to set as they reached another dense patch of woodland. 

A single wyvern passed overhead, startling some of the mercenaries. Leonie and Ignatz simply watched, too familiar with the beasts from their days at Garreg Mach to give it much thought. But it’s presence caused Ignatz to turn to Leonie.

“Looks like a stray,” she laughed. “He better hurry, or he’s gonna miss it.”

"You're not going to fly?" Ignatz asked as she strolled along. He had finally noticed that despite her mare’s wings, Leonie had never once taken to the sky.

"And risk getting hit by a wyvern that overslept?” 

“I suppose I didn’t consider that.” 

“I’m kidding. I guess I could," Leonie admitted with a roll of her shoulders. "But you don't want to fly a pegasus constantly. Their legs will get weaker if they don't get a little exercise."

She reached over and patted the creature's neck affectionately. 

"Besides," her orange eyes cut up, framed by her dark lashes. "It'd be kinda hard to talk to you if I was flying, huh?"

A distant roar called their attention. Ignatz turned his head to the west, and watched as a dense cloud of soaring wyverns crested the peak of the mountain range. The brilliant auburn of the setting sun caught the leather of their wings, bits of light escaping through the gaps left in their formation. Though chaotic, there was a beauty to the way they soared, a precise wildness that came with following instinct. 

His fingers ached with the urge to hold the handle of a brush. 

"Amazing, isn't it?" Leonie's reverent voice came from behind him. "I used to love watching them fly as a girl. I always wanted to know where they went."

"Quite," Ignatz murmured. "I've never seen the migration this close."

"We could stay and watch," Leonie suggested amicably, drawing up the reigns of her pegasus as though to order a halt. 

"Perhaps another year," he replied, though he couldn't bring himself to look away from the scene. "We can't afford to waste any time."

The wyvern flock drifted further and further over the misty ridges in the distance, and the caravan pushed ahead until the treeline obscured them from sight. Ignatz found himself craning for a parting glimpse, but they were surrounded by tall trees once again. 

Leonie let out an amused chuckle behind him. 

"Fine, but you owe me a nice evening of wyvern watching," She allowed her reigns to lay lax. "Don't think I'll forget."

"I wouldn't let you," Ignatz returned as he faced her again. 

“I guess it’s a shame we’re on the move,” she said. “Bet that would’ve been pretty amazing to paint.”

Ignatz’ face paled and he glanced around, as though to ensure none of the mercenaries were within earshot.

“Leonie! Not so loud,” he chastised in a harsh whisper. 

She tilted her head, one brow raised high above the other. The distress on his face surprised her, prompting a confused frown.

“What’s gotten into you, Ignatz? You love painting, don’t you?” Her bewilderment shone through her tone, though she lowered her voice regardless of it.

Ignatz stared at her for a moment, his gaze firm, before turning to face the road before them. His brow was angled down, creased in an unrecognizable expression that Leonie had never seen on him before. She watched, both curiosity and concern dancing in her chest, waiting for an answer she wasn’t sure would come.

“When we spoke about my,” he paused, “hobby, it was in private. Between only the two of us. I made myself very clear then, it was simply a frivolous pastime. One that I no longer have the luxury for, now that war is upon us.”

“Ignatz…” Leonie protested gently.

“I know what you’re going to say,” he admitted, canting his head toward her again. “Know that it’s nothing I haven’t already tried telling myself. Let’s leave the trivialities to the past, and focus on what matters now.”

He squeezed the sides of his horse to urge it forward and Leonie knew that the conversation was over. She was left blinking at the empty road where he had been. She thought of the Ignatz she remembered from the academy - timid, soft-spoken Ignatz - and sighed before following in his wake. 

The sun was rapidly retreating, and what hours of the journey remained were spent in silence. Leonie ran her finger over the worn leather reign in her hands, perking up as she heard the approach of another horse. The mercenary, one of the senior members of the group - Leonie recognized - lifted his helmet to address Ignatz.

“Sir, it’s getting dark. Do you plan on riding into the night?” 

“No,” Ignatz replied. “We’re going to set up camp soon, once we find somewhere that can accommodate the entire convoy.”

“We’re not far from a relatively safe meadow,” Leonie interjected, unable to stop herself.

Both Ignatz and the older mercenary turned to look at her. Ignatz’ expression was mild, but quizzical. 

“I’m familiar with the area,” Leonie offered in explanation. “Hunter, remember?”

A smile pulled at the corner of Ignatz’ lip as he nodded approvingly.

“Well, then. In that case, you’d best take the lead. Show me where this meadow is.” Ignatz drew up his reigns to slow his horse, allowing her the courtesy of the head position of the convoy. As she passed him, Leonie didn’t miss the dubious expression of the older mercenary, before he was swallowed up by the sea of horses and men. 

-

By the time they arrived, the sun’s presence was but a ghost in the sky. The once-gilded heavens gave way to a dying auburn, and then to blue. The meadow was exactly where she remembered it being, the same as when she hunted game to feed herself between jobs. But there would be no chance of hunting here - not with this large a group drinking and howling into the night. The men had begun to light and brandish their torches, cutting through the onset of darkness, as Leonie lead them through to the clearing. 

They set to work pitching tents immediately. Leonie took little time to erect her own. She’d become quite practiced at it in recent years. What caught her attention was Ignatz fumbling with his tent, and she couldn’t blame him once she got her hands on the unwieldy poles. But with their combined effort, they eventually constructed the large, pavilion-like tent. Ignatz thanked her before heading inside, and Leonie stood alone in the fresh dusk as she watched the flap close.

It didn’t take much deliberation for her to step inside.

“O-oh! Leonie! I thought you were heading to your tent. Do... you need something?” Ignatz exclaimed. He was on the ground, laying out a bedroll.

“Hey,” she said, “got a minute before we tuck in?”

“For you, of course,” he stood to meet her height - almost precisely, Leonie noticed. It was difficult to tell whether or not he had outgrown her, or if she still held the last few withstanding centimeters. 

“So,” she tested the water, “what was with that weird reaction earlier today?”

“Leonie…” He sounded fatigued, his fingers finding the bridge of his nose.

_ Cold _ , but nothing she couldn’t handle.

“We’re alone now,” Leonie sank her teeth in. “You don’t have to worry about anyone hearing you here.”

“I already told you, Leonie,” Ignatz stood his ground, “I don’t have time for my hobby anymore. Even at Garreg Mach, it was never something I could seriously pursue. It was simply a pastime. And it could never be anything more.”

“Is sketching here and there really so bad?” 

“It is when I could be using that time to be productive. I have new responsibilities now. My family is counting on me making use of every moment I have. They need me to be doing everything I possibly can for the company.”

He released a resigned sigh and moved to his bags, slumped in a pile near the center support.

"It won't be long now before the war poisons the rest of the Alliance," he continued, "and how can I pick up a quill knowing that?"

"Forget the Alliance, you're letting it poison  _ you _ !" Leonie felt her hands turn to fists at her side. "I saw the way you were staring at the migration. Not just then, but all throughout this trip. I know you, Ignatz."

She paused, recognition striking like flint to steel. 

"At least, I hope I do."

He turned his head back toward her slowly, the dim light of the lantern catching the lenses of his glasses. For a horrifying moment, Leonie wondered if he would tell her she was mistaken. Instead, he approached her silently.

"A bit too well, I'm afraid," when Ignatz spoke, the even tones of his voice were dually heavy and serene, as he reached up to tuck a wayward lock behind her ear. "So then you must know I'm a coward, too."

"Not at all." Leonie tried to ignore the shiver his fingertips against her cheek sent down her spine. "You're only doing your best. But I'm sure nobody would object to you taking a few minutes to sketch."

"I don't have time," Ignatz protested feebly.

"What about right now?"

"I don't have any materials," he tried again. 

"You have paper and ink. I'm sure you've made do with less before."

"I need that ink to take inventory and chart our path."

"I'll make you more," Leonie promised.

"It's dark," Ignatz said. "I can hardly see anything."

"You can see me, can't you?"

The revelation, now out in the open, caused Ignatz to sway like a willow in the breeze. He considered her stance for a moment, brows furrowing as he weighed her argument. Leonie remained unflinching, hands now planted firmly on her hips, as she awaited a response.

“I… suppose I can,” the admission trickled from his lips slowly, but surely. He moved to pick up his ledger of papers, flipping it open to withdraw an entirely blank page. When he met her gaze again, Leonie was beaming.

“So you will?”

“You haven’t given me much room to argue,” Ignatz conceded, but Leonie noticed his tone was a bit lighter.

“Aww, c’mon. You know you want to,” Leonie coaxed playfully.

She looked around, suddenly all too aware of their minimalistic surroundings from inside the tent. The lack of surroundings might make for a dull drawing, she thought, with nothing but the fabric of the tent wall behind her. 

“So, uh, do you want me to pose, or…” She trailed off, watching as Ignatz seated himself in front of her with the ledger in his lap. He brandished a small inkwell and set it to the side, looking at her expectantly.

“Since you so generously offered to be my subject matter, yes,” he motioned for her to sit. 

Leonie did as he asked, acutely aware that he was exercising some level of authority over her. And he was smiling about it - a sort of self-satisfied grin about being able to demand such things of her without a rebuttal. Though Leonie knew she’d gotten herself into this, and was hardly opposed to helping a friend, she felt a strange, unnamed warmth about the entire scenario.

“Right. Yeah,” Leonie felt the grass beneath her legs as she knelt. “Well, you’re the artist here, what do you want me to do?”

Ignatz regarded her thoughtfully for a moment as he leaned over to bring his lantern closer. He withdrew the vibrant green quill that rested on his chest and tapped it against his pursed mouth.

“Lay down,” he instructed calmly, “on your side. That’s it.”

Leonie felt that she was being guided with invisible and impossibly taunt puppet strings into the position he requested, suddenly grateful for the dim light offering her the blessing of an obscured face. 

“Good?” She asked.

“You’re tense,” Ignatz said frankly. “Relax your shoulders.”

Leonie realized that she was. The tightness of her muscles came away with her conscious relaxation, and she laid her head on the earth to stare at the artist. 

“Bring your leg forward, please,” Ignatz requested after another pause. “It’ll create disruption in the form. Contrast.”

“Uhuh,” Leonie replied absently. Her leg slid out from underneath her, the other laid straight out and resting atop it.

“Perfect. Just like that.” 

With her posed to his liking, Ignatz disappeared into the page and fed his ink-tipped quill to the surface. Leonie watched curiously as his arm and wrist worked together in unison to create broad, light strokes. She nearly forgot the mild discomfort of her prolonged stillness, too entranced by the smooth motion of his hand. She wished she could watch the arrangement of lines turning to form. How fascinating it must be just to watch him work - Leonie realized that with as secretive as Ignatz had been with his hobby, she had never actually gotten to see him in practice. She was tempted to raise her head to try and peek at the drawing, but the fear that she may break his concentration overruled her intrigue. 

Every so often, Ignatz would pause in his work to regard her again. His gaze would flick between the page and her body. She shouldn’t have found each roam of his eyes to be so thrilling. She had no reason for it.  _ He had looked at her many times before _ , Leonie reprimanded herself,  _ there was hardly anything different about this _ . And, yet, somehow - _ there was _ . 

Perhaps it was the knowledge that she was being inspected that made her shiver. Maybe it was the fact that it was Ignatz who was regarding her so studiously. The sensation was powerful, confusing - and Leonie preferred concepts that were simple. Despite that, she didn’t find herself wishing for an end.

Ignatz finally began to study the page more than he did her, and Leonie allowed her hips to roll only marginally as she relaxed. She assumed he had to be close to finished, based on the change of his mark-making.

“There,” he announced, returning his quill to his breast. 

“You done?” Leonie propped herself up by the elbow.

“I think so.”

“Good. Lemme see,” she raised herself the rest of the way, now on her knees.

“Ah, um, I’m not so sure about that,” Ignatz sputtered. He quickly tilted the drawing up to face his chest.

“Eh? Why not? I’m sure it’s great!” Leonie crawled closer, extending her hand to tilt it back down.

“I-I’m out of practice! It's no good!” He exclaimed, lifting it above his head and just beyond her reach.

“So? Come on, I posed for you, it’s only fair you let me see it!” Undeterred, Leonie pressed further with her attempts to see the paper. Ignatz assumed she wouldn’t be willing to practically crawl over him to see the drawing. He was wrong.

“Leonie!” Ignatz yelped as the weight of her body against his sent them both falling back against the grass. Thankfully, he still felt the ledger firmly between his hands - paper turned away from Leonie’s prying eyes. He nearly breathed a sigh of relief before noticing the position they were in.

Leonie was continuing to reach for the ledger, her legs carefully hooking around either side of his waist as she strained forward and giggled breathlessly. Maybe he would’ve laughed as well, if he wasn’t painfully aware of the warmth of her thighs through the fabric of his shirt.

“Leonie,” Ignatz tried again, his voice low and pleading.

“Ha… Oh." Leonie stopped and looked down at him. The ghost of a smirk remained on her face as her legs relaxed, sending her hips even closer to his. Ignatz tensed beneath her, and his once tranquil gaze widened, any semblance of control gone. Leonie thought she had seen that expression many times before, in the eyes of young bucks when they saw her on the heather-ridden moor. At once, all of her thoughts of seeing his work vanished - replaced with a warm haze, heavy like morning mist.

For a moment they remained like that, unable to look anywhere but the other’s eyes. The sharp, electrifying revelation of their position struck Leonie through the spine, causing her to straighten and apologize profusely.

"Oh! Ignatz, I’m so sorry!" She breathed. "I… I thought we were playing around, y'know? If you really don't want me to see it, I guess I don't have to-"

"Another time," Ignatz murmured, his voice wavering slightly. "I'll make you a better one."

She noticed his right hand release the ledger, allowing it to lay face down against the grass. What he planned to do with it would elude her, however, as she quickly shifted her weight to roll off of him. 

Leonie hardly took time to rest, still hot with embarrassment at her own behavior. She was on her feet in an instant, laughing insincerely and brushing herself free of any stray blades of grass. Ignatz seemed temporarily frozen, his hand settling at his side without a target. He slowly sat up as well, taking the ledger along with him.

“Well, it’s getting late, huh?” Leonie drew his attention with her voice.

“You’re leaving,” Ignatz seemed dazed, his words caught between a statement and a question.

“You probably want some rest, don’t you? We spent a long time on the road today.”

“...Yes,” He murmured absently. 

“I’ll let you get to it. We’ll need you sharp for tomorrow,  _ boss _ .” Leonie injected the last word with a bit of teasing, hopeful that it could bring some levity to their exchange. Ignatz stood and brushed himself off as well, nodding to her.

“Of course. You take care of yourself, too.”

“I always have,” she smiled, but the words only caused Ignatz’ brows to furrow in concern. 

“Take my lantern. Before you say anything, I have another.” He said after a moment. Before Leonie had the chance to protest, he was pushing it into her open hand. It was an offer she couldn’t refuse - as proud as she was of her independence, the prospect of walking to her tent alone was made slightly more comforting by the warmth and light of the lamp. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “Goodnight, Ignatz.”

“Goodnight, Leonie.” She thought she heard a hint of a heaviness in his voice. 

_ But there was little to be done about it _ , Leonie thought as she turned and passed through the flaps of the tent. Lantern in hand, she stepped into the dark camp. Like a flock of birds settling on the earth, dull white tents flecked the meadow. Several mercenaries had created a makeshift fire pit nearby, and were basking in its light with drink in hand. Their faint conversation stopped as she emerged from Ignatz’ tent. 

She didn’t need to look to know their eyes were on her.

She simply needed to remember where her own tent was and the night could end. Her grip tightened around the iron handle of the lantern as she made her way toward where she remembered it being, but she hardly rounded the corner of Ignatz’ tent before she a large, dark shape moved to intercept her. 

Leonie looked to her side. A wagon, still heavy with supplies, rested where an escape route would be. Going around wouldn’t be an option.

"Hey there, ginger." 

The lumbering mass turned to the shape of a man with the orange light of the lantern. Leonie frowned, realizing that he wasn't alone. On either side, two more mercenaries flanked him. She locked her knees reflexively. Running wasn’t an option, not just for the sake of her pride - Leonie knew better than to turn her back on a threat in the dark. 

"Out of my way," she demanded. It was worth a shot to see if they were just drunk enough to follow her orders, but the stillness she was met with told her otherwise. 

"Snappy, ain'tcha?" The leader chuckled. "I imagined you'd be a whole lot sweeter comin' outta the boss's tent."

Leonie's lip upper lip twitched in irritation. 

"Trying to watch, you lech?" She hissed. "You'd have been disappointed."

"Oh, no," the man raised his hands in a feebly performative defense. "I don't gotta watch you roll over and spread your legs for some Derdriu merchant for you to disappoint me."

Leonie felt white hot anger beginning to boil inside of her stomach. She fought against it to keep her voice level.

"Like I care what you think. If you just wanted to call me a whore, you don't have to stop me to do it."

"I didn't call you nothin', cherry," the man grinned in an unsettling, skewed way. "You're the one throwing such awful words around."

A myriad of curses welled up in her throat, threatening to burst from just behind her tongue. But Leonie knew that exploding on them wouldn’t resolve the situation. The shifting shapes of shadows from her periphery alerted her to movement behind her, and with a quick twist of her neck she realized that two more men had come to stand within earshot of them. Nearby, several other half-conscious mercenaries were raising their heads to observe the confrontation. From their lethargic postures, glassy eyes, and empty flasks - Leonie could only assume that they weren’t particularly interested in intervening.

Not that she’d ever needed them to.

“Listen,” she said, voice harsh. “Maybe you have nothing better to do than stand around jeering, but I don’t have time for this.”

With that, she strode ahead to shove past the man, hitting him hard on the side. She expected a hard grip to wrap around her arm, anything to hold her there. But it never came, and the man recoiled but remained upright.

“You fuck the big man and now you’re runnin’ away from it!” He laughed. “It’s a good thing Jeralt’s dead. Some apprentice you turned out to be, huh, ginger? Did you fuck him, too?”

The knuckles of her fist hit his jaw with a sickening crack. She’d thrown her entire weight into the swing, spinning and attacking in less time than it took for lightning to strike. The mercenary stumbled back from the blow, his face turned away from the force of the impact. Slowly, he turned his head towards her again. Where Leonie expected an expression of contempt, only a wicked smile remained.

“Now that’s more like it!” He roared, drawing his own fist back in retaliation. Leonie’s lantern clattered to the ground as he struck her stomach, and the dull thud of her body followed soon after. A howl of approval rose up from the besotted onlookers as Leonie watched the heavy approach of her opponent’s boots.

“You ain’t a real mercenary,” he spat, glaring down at her. “Always talkin’ about Jeralt, Jeralt this, Jeralt that. I betcha never even knew him.”

As much as his words stoked the rage blazing inside of her, she remained crumpled on the grassy earth, face turned away as she propped her upper body up on her elbows. She let him take another step, watching carefully from behind her curtain of auburn hair.

“The truth is, you’re nothin’ without your little stories, or without the boss. Look, all it took was one punch fo-”

He didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, it was punctuated by a cry of shock as Leonie swiftly kicked his legs out from beneath him, ensuring that she would strike the unguarded back of his knee. She was on her feet in an instant, pouncing on him and locking her legs around his torso as though they were two clamps of a bear trap. She brought her fists back in rapid succession, striking his face over and over. The crowd watching was no longer cheering - the only noises filling the camp were the pained grunts of the mercenary and her own frustrated screams. 

Leonie lost track of how many times she struck the man. It didn’t matter to her. Her mind was overwhelmed with images of the pallor of her mentor’s corpse, soaked by rain and bleeding. The funeral procession. The lillies she laid on the casket.

In the mercenary’s drunken state, his limbs were reactive in trying to protect himself, though he couldn’t keep a grip on her hands each time he attempted to snag them. She could hear the formations of obscenities gurgling up in his throat, but she silenced each with another connecting hit. 

“What’s going on out here?!” A familiar voice called. Leonie was vaguely aware of the sound of tent flaps flying open, followed by footsteps. When she looked up, she was greeted by the figure of Ignatz, looking over the scene with a horrified expression. 

“Leonie?” He asked. She paused mid-strike, unable to focus anywhere else.

That was all the hesitation that her opponent needed to bash her side with his arm, sending her unprepared body tumbling into the grass at his side.

“Cunt,” he snarled, but his trembling tenor belied just how much damage she had done. Leonie glanced over to observe the impact she left, watching blood from one nostril pour over his upper lip. His right eye struggled to remain open. 

Ignatz approached them and bent to pick up Leonie’s discarded lantern, thankfully still burning despite the impact. He held it over the both of them to survey the scene properly. Leonie felt a hot rush of shame course through her as the light passed over her. The eyes of a thousand mercenaries meant nothing compared to the scrutiny of Ignatz Victor.

“She attacked me,” the man growled as he lumbered to his feet. “Keep your bitch collared next time, why don’t you?”

A look of confusion passed over Ignatz’ face at the statement, and he turned to Leonie expectantly. She imagined that he wanted her to deny it. Instead of returning his gaze, Leonie simply remained quiet, and brushed herself free of dirt and grass. It may as well have been an admission. Ignatz frowned and turned back to the man.

“I see. As long as you’re in my service, there will be no internal fighting.”

Despite his words supposedly being aimed at her, Leonie noticed that he was looking directly at her adversary as he spoke. 

“Failure to abide by this will result in premature termination of your contracts. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” Leonie muttered, watching with narrowed eyes as the man grunted in acknowledgement before retreating from the light of the lantern.

“That goes for _ everyone _ ,” Ignatz called out into the dark. He spun, his cape a rush of rich green cloth, raising the lantern high above his head to command the attention of the rest of the convoy. The warning was clear - a terminated contract promised no gold. That sort of threat was more than enough to worry even the most hardened mercenary. 

Although nobody responded directly, they all understood. The crowd of onlookers had begun to disperse, all heading back to their tents. Ignatz lowered the lantern as they did so, finally turning back to her.

“Are you alright?” He asked. The gentle sincerity she was so accustomed to hearing from him had returned.

“I’m fine,” Leonie said, rolling her shoulder. “He got the worst of it.”

“I saw,” Ignatz replied with a frown. “That’s not like you, Leonie. What happened?” 

Leonie wondered if she should tell him. He’d always wanted to see the good in her, and Leonie hoped that she would never have to deal with her explosive temper again - not since the academy. Shame prickled up her spine as she debated.

“We got into a little disagreement,” she said finally. “It happens, you know. The sun comes up every day, the drink never runs dry in Derdriu, and mercenaries fight. Those are just the truths of life.” 

“Is it always that bad?” Concern welled up in his voice as he drew the lantern a bit closer, as though to inspect her for injuries.

“Depends. I’ve seen them tear each other apart for less.”

“But what were  _ you _ going to tear each other apart for?”

Leonie blinked, surprised by the forward nature of his question. She’d never known Ignatz to be so precise in his inquiries, so persistent. But then again, her memories of him were colored by the shy young man she remembered from the officer’s academy. That had been three years ago.

“... I don’t like when people disrespect dead men,” she admitted finally as she ran a knuckle across the base of her nose.

Ignatz seemed to understand immediately. The angle of his brows softened, and he lowered the lantern to his side once again.

“I see,” he said sensitively. “Well, Leonie, if you think it would be too much trouble to return to your tent after that, you’re welcome in mine tonight.”

Ignatz gently took her hand in his own. His hold was comforting and warm, yet loose - providing her the option to free herself easily should she choose to. Leonie glanced down at where their hands clasped together. Her knuckles had split from the force of her blows, and drying blood crested each. Ignatz carefully, tenderly, ran his thumb over the bloody skin. 

Her eyes returned to to his face. Illuminated by the warm glow of the fire, he gave her a reassuring smile. The flame that had raged in her ribcage moments ago roared to life again, but it wasn’t the call of battle that fueled it. The heat gave her cheeks new color as Leonie reciprocated his grip.

She parted her lips, on the cusp of accepting, but something over his shoulder caught her attention. Beyond the small circle of firelight, Leonie caught sight of several mercenaries who had yet to return to their tents. They lingered in a tight group, tight enough for hushed conversation, but all of their faces were turned towards the pair.

The mercenary’s biting words echoed in her head.

“Thank you, Ignatz,” Leonie replied. Her hand slid from his and he offered no resistance. “But I think I’ll be alright. It’ll take a lot more than one little scrap to worry me.”

“Ah, yes… Of course,” Ignatz cleared his throat, doing his best to keep his disappointment from showing on his face. But, predictably, he did a poor job of it. Leonie noted he’d never been very good at hiding his emotions, whatever they may be. Guilt pierced her, somehow more painful than the bruises undoubtedly forming beneath her garb. She nearly wanted to explain it to him, but the admission of what had been the true catalyst of the fight weighed down her tongue. 

“You can take care of yourself, can’t you?” Ignatz continued, but it did little to hide his embarrassment. “Forgive me if I’m out of line - I suppose I’m still getting used to the ways of mercenaries.”

“No, that was very thoughtful of you. Thank you. I mean it,” Leonie said, her brow creasing. 

Silence passed between them as Ignatz offered her the lantern.

“Goodnight, Leonie. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Goodnight. I’m… sorry for the trouble, Ignatz.”

“You’re never any trouble at all,” he murmured and gave her a tender smile - tempered only by his dismay at having to see her off.

Unsure of how to respond with the roiling emotions in her chest, Leonie simply nodded once before turning to find her tent. She glanced over her shoulder once she reached it, and only then did Ignatz retreat back into his own. She crawled between the flaps and laid on the flat, hard bedroll. Had she not been so tired, perhaps she would have laid awake to contemplate the events of the day, but the ache of fatigue and the evaporation of her adrenaline left her body begging for reprieve. Leonie untied the cloth from around her waist and laid it over herself in a vain effort to conserve some heat before opening the small glass door to extinguish the light of the lantern.

As she lay in the dark, Leonie wondered if it would have been warmer in Ignatz’ tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a long time coming! But hopefully the meat in this chapter makes it worth the wait. 
> 
> Thank you for your patience, all the comments and kudos I received were invaluable motivation! As always, your feedback means the world to me! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Welcome to the start of An Estuary. I imagine this will be a bit on the shorter side - originally it was a much more concise one-shot but the more I wrote, the more I found myself enjoying the politics and the idea of working with these two at such a transitory stage in their lives. Anyway, there's still a lot to explore with this, I especially want to get into their motivations for returning on the anniversary of the promise because Ignatz' reason (or lack thereof) has been fascinating me lately. 
> 
> (The M Rating isn't for nothing, either.)
> 
> Although it was conceived for Ignatz Week, I'll continue updating it even after the week is over! 
> 
> Thanks for stopping by and giving it a read!


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